


Barbershop

by Solar_Sylvilagus



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Branding, Gen, It's drabble time all the time, No Beta, Traumatic Haircut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solar_Sylvilagus/pseuds/Solar_Sylvilagus
Summary: He tried not to be disappointed when he opened his eyes, and found himself in one piece, except for the bald side of his head. Someone was removing the chains around his feet before hauling him to stand. They let him keep the blanket around his shoulders at least. They were being uncommonly kind recentlyMaybe they were planning on killing him?





	Barbershop

Compared to the rough treatment he had endured before, this was almost pleasant. A thought that made him disgusted with himself, and had one of his captors yanked his hair sharply in response to the brief tension.

“Careful, wouldn't want my hand to slip, now would you?” And the straight razor they were using to remove his hair dug in, drawing a thin line across his cheek and towards his eye, stopping just short. Tears stung the fresh wound, and they didn't even bother to clean his blood from the razor before going back to removing it.

Bigby closed his eyes, trying to focus on appreciating what little mercy they gave him. Shaving cream to make the razor glide smoother. His first bath in Light knows how long. They even wiped the shed blood from his cheek and pressed a wad of bandages to it. If only to hide their disobedience.

At some point, the cultist started whistling. An all too cheery tune.

His neck hurt.

* * *

At some point, he'd begun to doze. Even if all of his senses screamed at him to not, he was so tired. Besides, it wasn't like he could defend himself even if they wanted to kill him, regardless of if he was awake or not.

He tried not to be disappointed when he opened his eyes, and found himself in one piece, except for the bald side of his head. Someone was removing the chains around his feet before hauling him to stand. They let him keep the blanket around his shoulders at least. They were being uncommonly kind recently

Maybe they were planning on killing him?

* * *

The smell of smoke was choking him, and he couldn't help but struggle a bit as he watched them heat the brand. Seems they weren't done with him yet, and the idea of being branded like cattle made some long-dead sense of preservation, hell maybe even pride, twist his stomach. A permanent scar, should he even survive this. One that would tell everyone just who to return him to.

“Why?”

There were no words, only that hot iron approaching his face.

He winced.


End file.
